October 11, 2014 Photo (284/365): "Fungi"
"Something as wildly natural and primitive, mysterious and marvelous, ambrosial and fertile, as a fungus or a lichen..."
- Henry David Thoreau
Fungi
Okauchee
October 10, 2014 Photo (283/365): "Keep looking up! I learn from the past, dream about the future and look up. There's nothing like a beautiful sunset to end a day." - Rachel Boston
And so the sun sets on a very long, very challenging week. Looking forward to the weekend and a new start on Monday.
French Friday: "A Year in Burgundy"
A Year in Burgundy is a beautiful, bilingual documentary (narrated in English with French dialogue and interviews, subtitled for non-francophones). The scenery in the vineyards, medieval wine cellars, and quaint Burgundian towns is so lovely, and the people are quite charming. The film follows, Martine Saunier, a Parisian wine importer, as she visit vineyards throughout Burgundy during the 2011 vintage year. Some of the vineyards are no larger than many people's backyards, yet they produce such exquisite wines that a bottle can sell for upwards of one thousand dollars. Each vintage is described as "a time capsule, a bottled piece of history of a very specific year, with its particular weather pattern, its crises and its triumphs." The winemakers are truly artists "whose personalities shape the flavor and style of the wines they lovingly craft. There is joy, fear, anxiety, triumph, and laughter in their experiences."
What I loved most about the film was how it followed the rhythm of the seasons -- a year in the life of both the winemakers and their vines: "The vines bud and grow leaves and tendrils, and are trained, cared for. They make grapes, and a small, diligent army of hands comes to carry them away. The stripped vines die back, dry and brown, and turn to brush. The brush is burned, going into the wind as a curl of smoke and into the ground as ash. This is a year in Burgundy."
I once spent a day in Burgundy en route from Paris to Geneva. I stopped in the town of Beaune for a few hours to tour the Hôtel Dieu and to have lunch. I'm sure I enjoyed a glass of wine, but my knowledge and appreciation was very limited in 1994. After seeing this film, I would love to return. It has been a long time since I've been in eastern France, but the region has been developed since Roman times and I'm certain that it will be as historic and picturesque when I return one day.
Have you seen A Year in Burgundy yet? It was featured at this year's Milwaukee Film Festival, but you can also enjoy it at home. The film is currently the #2 best seller on iTunes and is also available on Netflix. It's Friday: Open a nice bottle of red and enjoy!
Seed
October 9, 2014 Photo: "Seed"
"Every adversity carries with it the seed of an equal or greater benefit." - Napoleon Hill
Eclipse
October 8, 2014 Photo (281/365): "Blood Moon"
Did you see the lunar eclipse this morning?
If so, you certainly don't need another super-edited iPhoto, but since the event this rare and it was the first thing that caught my eye this morning, it seems like an appropriate photo of the day. Yet it's not only the vision of this morning's lunar eclipse that caused the moon to shine an eerie, rusty red that got my attention; I'm also fascinated by it's name, "The Blood Moon" -- how wonderfully creepy and appropriate for a full moon in October!
It seems as though just recently more mention has been made of the Native American nicknames for the full moons in each month. Of course, I know what a blue moon is (two full moons in the same month). We haven't had one since August 2012, and there won't be another until July 31, 2015. But I hadn't heard of all these other wonderfully descriptive moon monikers. In August, mention of the Sturgeon Moon peaked my interest and now this Blood Moon compelled me to do a little research in the Farmer's Almanac:
January: "The Wolf Moon" when snow gathers deep in the woods and the howling wolves can be heard echoing in the cold still air.
February: "The Snow Moon" when the snow piles even higher. Some tribes also called the February moon the Hunger Moon due to the challenging hunting conditions.
March: "The Worm Moon" when snow begins to melt, the ground softens, and earthworms begin to appear. Christian settlers also called March the "Lenten Moon", the last moon of winter.
April: "The Pink Moon" when flowers begin to appear, including wild, pink ground phlox.
May: "The Flower Moon" when flowers are in full bloom.
June: "The Strawberry Moon" when strawberry-picking season reaches its peak.
July: "The Buck Moon" when deer start growing velvety hair-covered antlers. Frequent thunderstorms also resulted in the name "Thunder Moon".
August: "The Sturgeon Moon" when sturgeon, large fish common to the Great Lakes (and namesake of the Larson-Horne family's hometown), are most easily caught.
September: "The Harvest Moon" when corn, pumpkins, squash, beans, and rice are ready for harvest. The strong light of the Harvest Moon allowed farmers to work late into the night to harvest their crops. ("Harvest Moon" is also a great song by Neil Young.)
October: "The Hunter's Moon" when hunters can ride easily over the fields' stubble, and fox and other animals are more easily spotted.
November: "The Frosty Moon" when frost begins to appear in fields and on trees.
December: "The Cold Moon" when temperatures plummet, the winter nights lengthen, and the moon spends more time above the horizon opposite a low sun.
Orange
October 7, 2014 Photo (280/365): "Orange"
"It's too easy to say that orange is happy and black is sad. To me, black is perfect. You can fill it with the emotion you want to express." - Ann Demeulemeester, fashion designer
Yesterday, I alluded to the fact that orange is not my favorite color; in fact, I've avoided the fiery hue since adolescence. I'm naturally attracted to neutral, cooler colors: blues, grays, taupes, sage or mossy green, chocolate brown, black, and white. Cool shades are prominent in my home and my personal style; however, I do play with warmer, seasonal accents of pink, yellow, purple, and even red (cooler, berry reds). But the one color that never makes an appearance in my fashion choices and only appears in my home in October (see yesterday's post) is orange. I contribute my contentious relationship with the color orange to growing up in the 1970s when "earth tones" -- harvest gold, avocado green, and orange -- were de rigueur. (My mom still has these Corelle dishes.) As a Catholic school girl, I wore red, white, and blue plaid jumpers and skirts, white button-downs, and red or navy cardigans and knee socks everyday for years. Actually, I still like the idea of my own grown-up version of a uniform: various straight skirts, classic trousers, or dark-wash jeans, black and navy tops and sweaters, all accented with scarves, minimalist jewelry, hosiery, and footwear. I could write volumes about my passion for shoes -- in fact, I probably have! But in those days, on weekends and special occasions when I could choose what I wanted to wear, I faced a closet full of hand-me-downs from my older cousins and sweaters, vests, and scarves, knit or crocheted by my Grandma Dodo. I was so blessed to grow up in a multi-generational household and loved that my grandma lived with us. "Dodo" (Dorothy) was a very talented woman who played the piano, baked amazing bread, sugar cookies, and coffee cakes, and created beautiful clothes with her arsenal of knitting needles and crochet hooks. Unfortunately, being the stylish woman that she was, she always chose those iconic '70s colors --especially orange. I had so many orange sweaters growing up that I believe that Dodo cured me of the color for life!
Yet somehow, just this fall, I've begun to warm a bit the vivid hue. Although I'd never choose it for myself, I have recently enjoyed creating websites and posters for other teachers who have requested orange as part of their palates. This morning, I actually found myself attracted to this brilliant, fallen leaf. Perhaps I'm making progress... Just don't expect to see me sporting an orange sweater (ever)!